I Drained the Bathtub

That’s all I did. I let the water drain from the bathtub.

I should have thrown the baby out with it.

It was bath night. X usually has Daddy help him in the bathtub but he was busy preparing his team for the GoRuck so Mommy (me) took over rubber duckie and shampoo duty. It started out fabulously. The filthy little monster (seriously- he was just in the sandbox) was super-excited to get in the tub. I had to practically sit on him to make sure he didn’t jump in the tub headfirst before I was able to get it to a safe temperature.

He played happily with his stacking cups and Frankfort II (his rubber duckie) while I washed his hair and scrubbed the sand away. He didn’t even cry when I rinsed his hair. As per bathtime protocol, once he was as clean as a toddler can I flipped the little doodad to start the water draining and let him play until it was all gone.

He continued to scoop water until he realized there was no more water. Then he looked up at me, pointed at the drain, and screamed. Not his usually “but Mommy I want to play more” whimper. It was a blood-curdling scream that I only thought extinct creatures could possibly have made.

He wasn’t nearly this cute.

Not to be intimidated by a 24lb naked baby, I dragged him out of the tub, literally kicking and screaming. Little did I know that this was to be X’s first Terrible Twos meltdown.

He screamed down the hallway to his room.

He screamed when I (tried to) put him down on the changing table. He decided it would be better to do inverted planks.

He screamed while I put on his pajamas.

He screamed when I told him to turn off the light (typically his favorite thing to do) and screamed when I turned it off instead.

He screamed when I gave him his bottle and he screamed when I took away the bottle.

He screamed when I started to read Duckling Gets a Cookie.

He screamed so loud that everyone outside heard him.

He screamed for so long that Jay had to come upstairs to make sure I wasn’t holding his hand to an iron or beating him for using wire hangers.

After 20-30 minutes, the banshee finally accepted his bottle and shut up as if nothing had happened. He pointed at the storybook and sat quietly while I read and then walked himself on over to his crib to lay down.

My sentiments exactly.

I know this is the first of many tantrums. I have experienced the Grand High Priestess of Tantrums (She knows who she is. <Cough>Moo<Cough Cough>) so I have no fear of what this little monster has in store. I was still kind hoping he’d wait until at least a year and half to start his Terrible Twos.

He has since had minor meltdowns over the following:

  • Giving him a Goldfish instead of a fruit twist.
  • Asking him to put his shoes away.
  • Giving him a toy car.
  • Not letting him play on an escalator.
  • Taking the Goldfish out of the toy car.
  • Turning on his motorcycle.
  • Turning off his motorcycle.
  • Probably a lot more but Red Guitar makes a damn good sangria so I don’t remember all those instances anymore.

Yep. The next 2 years are going to be interesting.

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